It was an iron box about the size of a standard 32mo book, roughly two fingers thick. Its surface was exquisitely detailed, carved with the rose emblem—the national flower of the Kingdom of Lande—and fitted with latches on the side, making it look like a fine piece of artwork.
It had clearly been here for a long time, showing signs of freezing to the ground. Lynch needed quite a bit of effort to pry it free. Touching it with his finger, the surface felt bone-chillingly cold.
“Unexpected, though not impossible,” Miss Valente said, staring intently at the iron box as her brow furrowed in deep thought.
“Mm. With a sacrifice every twenty years, it’s not out of the question that someone left their personal belongings here at some point.”
“Then this person was certainly no ordinary individual. They must have been remarkably powerful—stronger than the two of us combined, at the very least.”
“Right. Evading the attacks of the Sons of the Formless and ghouls, then jumping down from the shaft without dying from the fall.”
“And on top of that, stepping inside to face an evil god head-on, while still having enough stamina to hide something here. Anyone even slightly weaker couldn’t have pulled that off.”
The two bounced observations back and forth with seamless coordination, their words coming faster and faster without losing a shred of logic.
“But how did he get in? Every past sacrifice involved coordination with your Valente family, didn’t it? Does your family have no record of this?”
“No. The ritual is actually quite complex and highly random. Otherwise, we would have tried using death row inmates as sacrifices long ago. It’s hard to determine who within the range gets dragged in. The only certainty is that only humans are affected—Elder Nikolai and his people wouldn’t be brought in. So this person was likely dragged in by accident.”
“Unlikely. He seems to have come prepared.”
“Mm... True. Even a powerful expert would struggle not to panic if suddenly thrown into a situation like this. To walk all the way here in such an orderly fashion, he must have been mentally prepared beforehand.”
“Indeed. Especially when walking right into an avatar of an evil god—that kind of surprise is far too intense. Personally, I don’t think I could remain calm enough to discover this corner, let alone hide something here.”
“This crevice really is well-hidden; it’s hard to notice even if you’re looking. His actions weren't some subconscious fit of madness. It was very likely an intentional act to leave behind a relic.”
“So, the biggest question now...” Lynch met Miss Valente’s eyes and tapped his knuckle against the iron box. “Can we open an object that’s been sitting beside an avatar of an evil god for at least twenty years?”
“There’s immense danger involved. Whatever is inside may have been turned into a mystery relic, or it could even harbour a mysterious heteromorph. Opening it recklessly is far too risky. It would be best to take it back and open it only after putting protective measures in place. Do you want to open it right now? What’s your reasoning?”
“Because we’re at a dead end. We have no choice, and we need a solution right now.”
“Your reasoning is sound. In the world of the occult, there are no coincidences. Any anomaly could break the stalemate, and its appearance is the biggest anomaly of all.” Miss Valente nodded thoughtfully, gesturing for Lynch to hand her the box. After receiving it, she turned it over a few times. “I wanted to try divination, but near this avatar, no divination spell will work—the interference is too strong. Forget it, I’ll open it directly. I have Shield of Piety, so at least I can block whatever danger comes out.”
“Wait, stop! What is that?” Lynch’s face suddenly changed, his pupils contracting as he dropped his voice. “Careful. Keep your movements small.”
“What is it?” Miss Valente’s heart tightened. She held her breath, holding the box frozen in midair. She didn't dare move, merely scanning the box with her eyes, but whether due to the angle or something else, she saw nothing unusual.
“Don’t move. Don’t move at all. I’ll point it out to you.”
Lynch moved slowly, cautiously taking the iron box from her hands. Suddenly, he flashed a smile at Miss Valente and made a shushing gesture. “Cover me.”
With that, he turned the iron box to face the wall, gritted his teeth, and popped open the lid while hiding behind the back of the box.
If it were a durable tank like Officer Angel, that would be one thing, but Lynch couldn't bring himself to let a researcher stand in front of him. Besides, if he got hurt, the healer could put him back together; if the healer got hurt, they were both finished.
“You!” Miss Valente’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. She gritted her teeth viciously, but with the deed already done, there was no arguing. She immediately raised her gun, aiming straight at the box.
One second, two seconds, three seconds.
Phew, looks like it’s safe. Lynch silently wiped away a cold sweat.
Gunpowder in this world wasn't powerful enough for him to worry about a straightforward explosion; what he feared was some strange monstrosity crawling out. To that end, Lynch had long prepared himself to draw his gun and fight for his life at a moment’s notice. Fortunately, there was not a single sound.
No—it wasn't safe. The sound of teeth grinding came from beside him.
He turned his head to see Miss Valente glaring at him with a complex and fierce expression. Through gritted teeth, she said, “You went too far, Mr. Levive! Even if you wanted to open it yourself, you could have persuaded me first. How could you do something like that?”
“Could I have persuaded you to hand it over to me?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, now it’s already opened.” Lynch gave a sly smile, but realizing that having one’s head blown off by a shotgun would probably hurt, he quickly pointed to the box in his hands. “It’s open. Let's inspect the contents first.”
“Hmph.” Miss Valente wrinkled her nose and feigned a kick at him, though a trace of a smile still touched the corner of her lips. Staying on high alert beside Lynch, she watched as he carefully drew out the contents.
First, he pulled out a few sheets of stationery. The handwriting grew messier line by line, until the end resembled mere scribbles.
“I don’t know if anyone will ever read this letter, but if you do, please complete the work I left unfinished.”
“I am Charles Finit, Honorary Knight of the Kingdom of Friedman, special consultant to the Archaeological Association, and a Soul Severer of the Church of the Sun. Today is August 11, 1379.”
“I successfully infiltrated following Mr. Black Spider’s method. It turns out everything he said was true. These hillmen really are secretly making sacrifices to Mordiggian, and the Valente family is involved as well. It even seems there are traces of the Lande royal family behind this.”
“I don’t know what conspiracy they’re hatching. These despicable Lande people are capable of anything. No wonder Mr. Black Spider said I must destroy the avatar of the Great Old One to completely eliminate the hidden threat to Middle Earth. But why are my attacks ineffective against this avatar? I have confronted avatars of the Great Old Ones more than once, yet I’ve never encountered a situation like this.”
“It’s no use. No matter how many times I try, I cannot affect the Great Old One’s avatar. I’ve tested all kinds of methods; the avatar acts as if it doesn’t even exist, yet its filth is undeniably real—definitely not an illusion. What on earth is going on? I need to seek help from Mr. Black Spider again. I hope I can still contact him from here.”
“Oh, no... It requires multiple people working together? How is that possible?! Why didn’t he tell me sooner?! Where am I supposed to find help now?! Damn it, damn it, damn it! This must be a trap!”
The final line of text was written in an extremely distorted and messy hand, after which there was not a single word more.
Reading this strange letter, the two looked at each other, feeling the situation grow increasingly thorny. It seemed they were not the first to encounter this predicament. This Mr. Finit had likely faced the exact same situation and then starved to death here.
Would the two of them meet the same fate?
Miss Valente gripped her folding fan tightly and bit her lip, asking softly, “Is there anything else?”
Lynch pursed his lips with a strange expression, let out a soft sigh, and pulled another item from the box.
A small picture frame.
Empty.
Rate on N.U.
